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Taste is Love

December 10, 2014

Poetry, like falling in love, is a matter of affinity …”
(Robert Duncan, thinking of his muse/his mentor, the poet H.D.)

or love a matter of being knocked off a mantlepiece —

or love simply a matter of taste, literally on the tongue, & odor — I either like (or don’t like) your scent, your taste on my tongue.  It could be as simple as that.  Why does one seem so sweet, another like she needs a bath?  Is it diet, age, hygiene?  Some thighs I want to lie between until I die, others I can barely sniff.

Biology chose you for me, biology masquerading as “love” — I walk into this room & you leap off the mantlepiece at me, sad scribbling figurine, fingering my poor, battered books, sniffing poetry on my fingers.

When I lift your hand to my lips I taste your sex, it is then I know it is love.  My tongue hardens.


From → Ponderings

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